


Like the Dawn

by theculpers



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-04 18:19:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15152918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theculpers/pseuds/theculpers
Summary: A renegade, a Major, and the raging war around them...Henrietta Black knows war is no place for a lady, however she seeks revenge and will get it no matter the price she has to pay. When she is captured by Lieutenant Brewster and Major Tallmadge, Etta learns that this war is so much more than what she thought.





	1. Chapter 1

The early winter wind brushed the hair in front of Etta’s eyes, and she let out a moan of annoyance, pushing it back up into her hat. In the distance, she could hear birds busy in conversation, their whispers creating a cadence in the silence around her. She carefully grabbed her musket, being careful not to cock it too far forward, and fell back into a crouching position behind a tree.

Etta hadn’t meant for this all to happen. She knew it was rather reckless of her to enlist with the King’s Army, however she couldn’t stay home and sit in her blasted petticoats all day, pretending to be someone she was not. So, here she was: done all up in red and white, carrying a musket and bayonet, searching for the Rebel Army in some God-forsaken farming town in New Jersey. If Etta were entirely honest, she would have enlisted with the Rebels to begin with. It would have made her life- _her mission_ \- considerably easier. But easier was just not her style.

A sound behind her caused Etta to lift her musket, pressing her finger ever so lightly on the trigger without firing. A young man appeared from behind a tree five feet away and offered her a smile, cocking his own gun on one shoulder. Etta exhaled, willing her heart rate to return to normal.

“Blast, Eli! I nearly shot you, you fool,” Etta whispered harshly. Eli, a fellow private and Etta’s only friend in the regiment, stifled a laugh.

“You wouldn’t be laughing if we were to exchange positions, would you?”

Eli’s smile dropped and he quickly hid himself behind a bush adjacent to Etta.

“What’s got your knickers in a twist, Locke?”

Etta, known by her regiment as Henry Locke, shook her head, willing her dark brown curls to stay secured under her hat. Elijah Samuelson was thick, but she knew he was growing suspicious and she couldn’t afford being discovered. It would end in certain death.

“Sorry, I’m just tired that’s all. This mission is pointless.”

Just as Eli was about to respond, a soldier ran up to them and gave Etta a piece of parchment, waiting for her to read it before returning to his post. Etta ripped open the seal and scanned the note’s contents.

_Major Andre requests your presence in York City at your earliest convenience. Come alone._

Etta thanked the officer before sending him back to his post with their General. “Andre wants to see me,” she told Eli, lowering her musket. “Alone.”

“The bloody Major? Good heavens, did he say why?”

Etta shook her head in response. “No, but I’ll know soon enough.”

A look of mutual understanding passed between the two soldiers before Etta slipped away into the forest. A gelding awaited her, already tacked up and agitated from the sounds of nature around them. She thanked the soldier who held him, watching as he turned into a speck of red dust on the horizon behind her.

“Shh, boy,” she comforted the beast upon mounting. She gently tapped the horse’s sides with her heel and soon, they fell into an easy canter. It would be a long night’s journey, and Etta could feel exhaustion causing every bone in her body to ache. The work it took to pretend she was Henry Locke had been rather taxing, but at risk of being caught, she refused to loosen the stays underneath her uniform or take off the hair-crushing hat she wore. 

The New Jersey landscape was flat and forested, allowing Etta to stay hidden as she made her way to the edge of the Hudson River. Every time the moon’s light fell on a patch of leaves or cast a shadow on the grass below her, Etta cursed under her breath. After what felt like an eternity, Etta pulled her horse to a stop and rested. Judging by the clearing up ahead, Etta estimated a few more hours before she would hit water’s edge. Soldiers would be waiting with a boat to row her across into York Harbour and from there, she would take a carriage ordered by the Major to his place of residence. It was a fool-proof plan.

Etta climbed back on her horse and eased the beast into a gallop. The horse’s knowledge of the Jersey landscape gave Etta time to think, which came rarely these days. She allowed herself to think of her parents, who no doubt were grieving her absence. She had left a note explaining her intention to elope Mr. Frederick Ayotte, with no promises of returning. Etta chuckled at her own ridiculousness. Ayotte was a poor pawn in her game, and so were her parents. If they had taken the time to get to know their daughter, they wouldn’t be so easily convinced by the letter or by her games. Nevertheless, she hoped her parents believed every word of it, for her sake.

After what felt like an eternity, Etta let the reins loosen in her gloved hands and patted her mount’s sweaty neck. The moon was at its highest point in the sky and stars dusted the indigo canvas above them. She readied herself to dismount when a searing pain shot through her left arm, making her drop the reins and fall to the ground.

“I got ‘im!” An unfamiliar voice called out from behind a tree.

Etta, through clenched teeth, attempted to look at her arm, where a steady stream of blood dripped down onto the ground. She could see a small hole gracing her forearm, indicating a bullet wound. Etta had plenty of those.

A gruff-looking man, who Etta suspected was the owner of the mysterious voice, approached her with an axe in one hand and a pistol in the other. His wide-brimmed hat and long coat made him look like a blur of black in Etta’s already-failing vision.

“Who are ya?” He yelled, jamming the butt of the pistol against her temple.

Etta growled, using her right arm to push the weapon away from her head. The man grabbed at both of her arms and pinned them above her head, against the ground. She willed herself not to cry out in pain. Weakness was not a luxury Etta was allowed.

“I asked ya a question!” He roared.

Etta, despite her better judgment, began to laugh. This whole situation was utterly hysterical. Horrifying, yes, but Etta couldn’t help but find it a tad comical. The man did not feel the same as he blew out a frustrated growl before smacking her upside the head with his pistol, this time sending her into complete darkness.

\--

Etta had always been a rebel. Her parents wanted a son, but they were burdened with a daughter and never let her forget it. So, she responded in kind. She refused to wear corsets, spent most of her time with friends of the opposite sex, and questioned the authority of the Crown on multiple occasions. Her Loyalist parents would have turned her in for treason had she not run away. Now, they wouldn’t have to. She would die here.

Etta could not determine her surroundings as it was pitch black around her. She suspected a barn, going by the scent of hay and manure permeating through the air. The creaking of a door in the distance pulled Etta out of her reverie, and she pushed herself towards the sound and ray of light coming through the door. Cursing the rope her captors put around her wrists and wincing as her left arm throbbed with the slightest of movement, Etta positioned her body so that she was crouching on her heels. She heard heavy footsteps on her left and an accompanying hand pulling her up by her shirt told her that her captor was present.

“Hello, sir,” she drawled, spitting in her captor’s face. The man stepped into the light as another person entered the barn. Etta recognized him as the man who shot her. However, the officer before her was wholly unfamiliar. She observed him as he spoke to the other man. His deep blue eyes held so much anger, his harsh words even more so. Etta noticed his blue and gold uniform with silver epaulets that indicated he was a Major in the Continental Army, and an idea began to form in her mind.

“I apologize for my Lieutenant’s behavior, Officer. I intend to assign the appropriate punishment due for such an offense,” the Major apologized, untying Etta’s wrists and allowing her to stand.

“No hard feelings,” Etta spat as she glared at the other man. “I demand to know why you are holding me captive, however. I did nothing wrong. I was on my way to meet with Major John Andre. You can inspect my papers and see that what I say is true.”

The Major glanced at Etta’s papers and nodded. “Yes, well you were close to crossing our lines, Officer. Do you know where you are?”

“Somewhere in New Jersey.”

The Major and his accomplice shared a look that did not go unnoticed by Etta. She hadn’t noticed before, however, that they had left her musket untouched at her side. She snatched it while they were busy arguing and hid it behind her back before stepping toward them. Before she could point it at them, the accomplice grabbed her wrists in one hand and pulled her weapon out from behind her, handing it to the Major.

“Sneaky bastard,” the bloke muttered as he glared at Etta. If she made it out alive, she’d be sure to knock him out when she got a chance.

“Why did you come here?” The Major asked, his voice laced with a mix of frustration and fear. Ever since he had assumed the position of Major, many a soldier were brought to him threatening to assassinate the General. It had taxed Ben more than he'd ever admit, and he couldn't say what he'd do if this idiot chose the same story. The young lad before him was different than the rest, however. His thin frame and delicate facial features reminded Ben of something he couldn’t put his finger on. He ignored his racing mind, and instead focused on the scene before him and the lad who was slightly delirious from the pain caused by Caleb’s reckless gun shot. Ben unfolded the officer's papers once again and the name written across the top of the parchment caused a lump to form in his throat. 

The Major’s face filled with rage, and he smacked Etta square in the cheek, leaving it red and stinging. 

“Why are you here?” He yelled again, his patience wearing thin. Etta winced, but remained calm.

“I told you true,” Etta seethed, untangling herself from the man’s grip. “I was summoned to York City by Major John Andre. That was my intended destination.”

“I find that hard to believe, _Mr. Locke_.” Etta froze in place, eyeing the Major wearily. He said her alias like it was poison dripping from his lips. It sent a shiver down her spine, but she ignored the sensation and continued glaring at him.

"You killed one of my men," the Major hissed with hatred. "At Fort Washington."

“I have killed many men, Major. Don’t take it personally,” Etta was surprised by the apathy that laced the tone of her voice, not knowing if it was to keep up appearances or if she really meant those words.

Every time she killed a Continental soldier, the pit in her stomach grew. Etta scratched a tally mark for each man she gunned down on her wrist - to remind herself when she forgotten, that this war was not a game. The faces of those dead men would forever haunt her, and she hated herself for it. It was never her intention to kill her own side, or anyone for that matter. 

The Major willed himself to breathe, although the anger bubbling within him wanted to attack the pathetic soldier he held by the collar. In an act of unexpected mercy, Ben dropped the lad to the ground, ignoring the cry of pain that followed as the young man's shoulder met the hard ground.

“I will ask General Washington what he would have us do with you, _Tory_. Lieutenant Brewster, watch him until I return.”

Etta watched as the Major left the barn, slamming the door shut behind him. Lieutenant Brewster grabbed Etta and shoved her into a bale of hay. She gritted her teeth in pain, but ignored him, watching as he sat back down on a stump and sharpened the blade of his axe. Etta knew she had to say something before the Major returned and ruined the only chance she had left to fulfill what she had enlisted in the King’s Army for.

“Brewster, is it?” Etta began, inching her sore body up into a sitting position. Despite the dull ache in her arm, she used it as leverage to stand and walk over to the man. The Lieutenant angled his axe in her direction, daring her to come forward. She stayed where she was, not nearly as afraid as she should’ve been.

“What do ya want, ya bastard?

Etta rolled her eyes. “It’s Officer Locke, Lieutenant, and I have a proposition for you.” Lieutenant Brewster shook his head, continuing to sharpen his axe. Etta knew that if he had the choice, she'd be dead already. 

“You’re not getting out of here. Washington will have ya hanged.”

Etta weighed the possibilities. She could reveal her true identity to the Lieutenant and risk him telling the Major, or she could be hanged. The latter was not an option.

“Understood. However, Washington would be making a huge mistake,” Etta began, carefully letting her dark hair fall loose around her shoulders. The man’s face filled with shock when the realization hit. If she had enough energy, she would’ve erupted in laughter at his ridiculous expression. 

“ _Christ_.”


	2. Chapter 2

Lieutenant Brewster paced up and down the barn, wearing a thin pathway into the dirt-covered ground. Etta never allowed her eyes to stray from the axe that hung down from the man’s side, attached precariously to the belt tied around his waist. Drawing closer to her, Brewster went to untie it, and Etta inhaled sharply. She was going to die before the Major was even able to speak with General Washington.

She shut her eyes and waited for the sting of the blade, but it never came. Etta opened one eye at the sound of the creaking barn door opening. The Major came bursting through it, his voice amplified within the small structure. The moment his eyes landed on Etta, he stopped yelling. The Major took a glance at the Lieutenant, who simply shrugged and placed his weapon back at his side. Etta knew it wasn’t prudent to speak now, but the words left her lips before she could stop them.

“You nearly had my head, Major. I apologize for complicating matters.”

Benjamin Tallmadge was anything but thick. His time at Yale was proof that he learned quickly and had a strong mind for not only his studies, but general common sense. However, he felt utterly foolish as he walked through the barn doors and discovered that the illustrious Henry Locke was, in actuality, a young woman. Her brown curls nearly fell down to her waist and her piercing green eyes bore into him like daggers. When she spoke, she had the same biting tone as earlier without the huskiness masking it.

“What is your name?” The Major asked. Etta was surprised by his calmness. It was such a change from his earlier death threats. He gestured for the Lieutenant to close the barn doors and walked closer to where Etta was sitting against a bale of hay, still rope-bound. Etta observed that his hand rested on the butt of his pistol, which was secured to his side. She pushed the slight fear that rose in her chest down and fixed her gaze upon her captor.

“Henrietta Black, at your service,” Etta drawled with fake civility.

The Major gave Etta a warning look, but she kept her steely gaze, not willing to succumb to a display of her inward emotions as no doubt the man before her expected her to.

“Explain why you are here, and why you impersonated Officer Locke.”

Ben watched as the young woman’s eyes darted between her and Caleb. She was afraid despite her obvious attempts at hiding it. He couldn’t help but admire her cleverness in taking Officer Locke’s identity. She had remained in character for quite some time without revealing herself, not even to Major John Andre. It was a tremendous feat.

“I am the daughter of a wealthy British Loyalist,” Etta began, summoning up the courage to speak about the family she had not allowed herself to think about as it filled her with a longing she couldn't describe. “I have never been fond of our King. I saw how people killed, pillaged, and wreaked havoc in his name. I could not sit back and do nothing, even though that is expected of women. I ran from home and enlisted in hopes that the information I would obtain as a soldier in His Majesty’s Army could be of use to the Continental Army, maybe General Washington himself.”

Etta paused and surveyed the two men before her, hoping they bought the half-truth. The Lieutenant remained fixated on sharpening his blade. The Major, however, nodded for her to continue. The intrigue showed evidently on his face, and Etta used it to propel her to her point.

“I spoke true, earlier, when I said it wasn’t my intention to break into enemy lines. Major Andre did summon me to York City. Nevertheless, since Providence has brought me here, I seek an audience with General Washington,” Etta finished, jutting her chin out slightly to feign command.

The Major shook his head in disbelief, letting out a frustrated sigh. “That will not be easy, Miss Black. General Washington does not take kindly to deserters like you.”

Etta offered her captor a smug grin. “I may be, but I am determined and have information that will prove useful to the Cause. My dishonor might very well aid in our victory, Major.”

Ben was surprised by the lady’s boldness. It reminded him of his childhood friend, Anna Strong, who was never afraid to speak her mind, much to his chagrin. It got her in trouble more often than not. Despite the manner in which Miss Black arrived to him and Caleb, he felt that she was being honest in her recount. She might indeed prove useful. Ben mulled it over in his mind for a few moments before calling Caleb over to him.

“Caleb, keep careful eye on Miss Black. I will be back.”

His best friend cussed under his breath. “You’re not believing this shite, are ya? She played us, Tall Boy! She’s got nothin' to give Washington.”

“That’s a possibility, but I will allow Washington to determine that after speaking with her. She might surprise us.” Ben gave his friend a knowing look before exiting the barn and making his way across camp to the General’s tent.

Etta watched as Major Tallmadge left the barn for the second time and couldn’t help the slight grin that began to form on her lips. If the good General believed her story, she could gain his trust. She could avenge all that was stolen from her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that the first two chapters are quite dull and short, but it is necessary to set up the plot, introduce characters, etc. The following chapters will be longer and more action-packed. Also, expect Ben + Etta's relationship to be quite a slow burn. I hope you learn to love Etta as much as I do! Look for Chapter 3 in the next few days, and thanks for reading :)


	3. Chapter 3

Etta had often imagined what a meeting with General George Washington would be like. She would politely curtsy, and he would take her hand in his own and kiss it. They would chat over cups of tea with battle plans strewn across the table. Ultimately, she would prove so capable, that he would bow at her feet. Etta hadn’t imagined, however, the anxiousness that would well within her at the mere sight of his tent. Etta mentally cursed her weakness. She had fought in many battles and not once did she feel as afraid as she did now. The weight of all she hoped for sat on her shoulders, and she knew that if this meeting was not successful, she would be done for.

Major Tallmadge opened the flap of the tent and gestured for Etta to step inside before him. She gave him a brisk nod of thanks and entered. Washington’s tent was larger than the average soldier’s. Etta quietly observed the room, noting a desk was situated against the far corner. Papers and an ink well sat atop it, evidence of the late nights the General no doubt endured corresponding to Congress. In the middle of the tent was a long dining table, barren save a wine glass and a copy of Plato’s _Republic_. Etta smiled when she saw it. It reminded her of when she was younger, breaking into her father’s study to read whatever she could get her hands on. Etta took her education into her own hands when her parents refused to hire a tutor. While her father was occupied in court and her mother was too busy planning parties to pay her any mind, Etta devoured Plato, Aristotle, and Shakespeare, immersing herself in law, politics, and philosophy.

“‘There is in every one of us, even those who seem the most moderate, a type of desire that is terrible, wild, and lawless’,” Etta recited softly to herself. Major Tallmadge gave her a quizzical look before turning to Washington, who was urgently speaking with Billy Lee, his personal servant.

“Sir, I brought the prisoner as you asked.”

Etta scowled at the Major at the sound of the word prisoner, but relented when Washington cleared his throat to get her attention.

“Miss…”

“Black, Sir. Henrietta Black.”

The General gestured for Major Tallmadge to leave. The young man hesitated, but Washington gave him a stern look and the Major reluctantly left the tent. Etta turned back to Washington, who observed her with a pensive expression on his face.

“Miss Black, the Major told me your tale and I am quite interested in hearing the intelligence you claim to have obtained while serving the British. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t impressed with your alias.”

Etta offered the General a shy smile. “Officer Locke dined with my family prior to his death and made an awful scene regarding a close friend of mine. I found it fitting.”

The General let out a throaty chuckle. “Yes, fitting indeed.”

Etta grew impatient as Washington fell silent.

“Trenton,” she blurted out, catching the man before her off guard. She mentally cursed herself for her rashness and collected herself before continuing.

“A band of Hessian mercenaries are headed to Trenton within the month, sir.”

The General eyed the young woman before him, careful not to respond right away. Etta grew impatient again.

“My regiment was in New Jersey on a scouting mission. Major Andre believed there to be spies within the area. I suspect he was planning on sending a man into York City as well as Long Island. He believes there to be a spy ring operating near one of those two locations.”

“Thank you, Miss Black. Your intelligence will most certainly prove useful, and I am indebted to you. I will have Major Tallmadge ensure your safe return back home.”

Etta froze, glancing at the General. Despite the harms it took for her to obtain such intelligence, he would have her return home to sit and do needlepoint. Not only that, but Washington acted as if she hadn’t just told him information that would secure a Continental victory.

“With all due respect, sir,” Etta began carefully. “Going home is not an option. If you would allow me to assist in gathering more intelligence, or even fighting-”

“I’m afraid you’ve faced enough danger for a lifetime, Miss Black.”

Etta clenched her firsts at her sides, willing the growing anger in her chest is dissipate. She would not act like a petulant child in front of George Washington, no matter how mad she was.

“Sir, that is exactly why I cannot return home! I have fought in battle, killed even. You cannot expect me to return to needlepoint and dinner parties. I am in the thick of it, and there’s no turning back. As you have seen, I have proven myself useful in gathering intelligence. If you would allow me to, I can retrieve more.”

The General wore a thoughtful expression on his face while he got up from the table and made his way across the tent to the pile of papers on his desk. He took a blank sheet and dipped his quill into the inkwell.

“Very well, Miss Black. Major Tallmadge will be in charge of determining your position within his ranks, one that will hopefully ensure your utmost safety and protection. I ask that while in camp, you remain clandestine. No one must know your true name. An alias will be required.”

Etta nodded in compliance, graciously accepting the letter Washington handed her to give to the Major.

“Patience Grey,” Etta offered. The General agreed and dismissed her with the promise of another meeting soon.

-

Etta found herself outside of General Washington’s tent, aimlessly searching for a familiar face. Instead, a group of soldiers warming themselves by a fire looked in her direction. She shivered under their glances, and started walking toward a structure that looked like the barn on the opposite end of camp. Etta was thankful she still wore parts of her uniform as a dress would be far too cold in the early December chill and would attract unwanted attention. She crossed her coat-clad arms closer to her chest and continued walking past a row of soldier’s tents.

“Where do ya think yer going?”

The rough voice of Lieutenant Brewster filled the silent night, and it took everything within Etta to not run from it. She turned around and offered a smirk to the arsehole who shot her.

“I might ask you the same question, Lieutenant.”

The burly man spat, not bothering to apologize when his aim met its target on Etta’s boot. It took every ounce of her will to not attack him. Lieutenant Brewster could tell that his offence had worked as the girl before him trembled with rage.

“I am searching for the Major,” Etta snapped.

“Aren’t we all, love!”

As she made show of cleaning her spit-covered shoe, Etta picked up a rock, which she put into her coat pocket. She could feel the weight of it as she rose to meet Lieutenant Brewster. Etta waved the note Washington gave her in the air in front of his face, careful not to let it be carried away by the wind.

“I have something for him from General Washington.”

The Lieutenant’s eyebrows raised in curiosity and before he could snatch the note away, Etta tucked it into her breast pocket. She then carefully took out the stone and aimed it at Brewster’s head, catching the skin above his right eye. The lad howled in pain, clutching his forehead and taking a few dizzy steps forward. Etta used it as her opportunity to grab him by the collar.

“ _Where_ is Major Tallmadge?” She yelled. She knew she couldn’t have been as intimidating as she would like with her hair down and her identity known, but she mustered as much courage as she possibly could. God knew she had the anger.

“Alright, alright. If ya get yer delicate little hands off me, I’ll take ya to ‘im,” the Lieutenant relented. Etta obeyed and reluctantly tossed him her handkerchief to wipe off the small amount of blood that had collected above his right eyebrow.

The walk to Major Tallmadge’s tent was wordless. Etta figured she had wounded the Lieutenant's pride with the little stunt she attempted with the stone. If she had her gun, she would’ve shot him right in the boot just to prove a point. At the other end of camp, the Major’s tent was the only one with the lantern still burning outside. The Lieutenant stepped into the tent first, most likely to explain their late night visit. However, Etta could hear his booming voice spilling out cuss word after cuss word. After what felt like an eternity, he emerged and begrudging motioned for Etta to go in.

-

The Major was close to finishing a piece of correspondence when Caleb burst through the flap of his tent, holding a strip of cloth to his bleeding forehead and cursing in every language he knew.

“What is the meaning of this, Caleb? I thought you were supposed to watch Miss Black.”

His best friend shook his head, sarcastically smiling before a fit of anger overtook him and he began kicking the cot next to him. Ben set down his quill and grabbed his friend by the shoulders, pushing him to sit down on his cot. 

"Calm down, Caleb." Ben watched as his friend inhaled sharply and took his hat off. "What happened?"

“That Miss Black of yers….oh Tall Boy, she’s the Devil himself.”

The Major glanced at his friend’s injury and made the connection.

“Did you provoke her?” he asked. Ben took that to be a yes as Caleb glared at him.

“She said she had a note to pass to ya and when I refused to tell her where yer tent is, she lost her shite like a ravenous dog! She threw a stone at me, Ben. That’s not a lady ya got there, that's a demon.”

Ben heaved a sigh before telling his friend to have the woman come in. Miss Black thankfully obliged, and he observed as she loosened the buttons of her coat the moment she entered, retrieving a piece of paper from within a hidden pocket.

“From your Highness, King George,” Etta joked, handing the Major Washington’s note before bowing.

“How _dare_ you-”

Etta rolled her eyes before taking a seat on what she ascertained to be the Major’s cot.

“It’s a joke, Major. Ever heard of those?”

Etta impatiently watched as the Major read Washington’s letter. She knew he would have no choice but complete obedience, but her heart still beat a little too fast for her liking. It didn’t help that the Lieutenant, bloody eye and all, failed to let her leave his sight.

“Christ,” the Major whispered to himself, surveying the two individuals in the tent after reading the letter Miss Black gave him for the second time.

“No, I’m afraid,” Etta said snarkily. “Washington. He gave you orders, Major. Christ has nothing to do with it.”

Etta watched as Major Tallmadge shared a look with Caleb. She knew the Lieutenant would much rather see her hanged than work alongside her for Washington, but the Major was harder to read. Despite his earlier threats, the man seemed less apt to wear his emotions on his face. Etta found herself appreciating and despising him for it simultaneously.

“I will send you to York City. We’ve been needing an agent there. How likely is it that you can attend a ball without any mishap?”

Etta thought carefully, knowing her family, as prominent Tories, would most likely gain word of her attending a Loyalist ball. Another idea struck her and she smiled at the thought.

“Well, Major. I do look rather dashing in a uniform. Did you know I was quite a catch with the ladies while serving Andre? I believe he _is_ awaiting me. It couldn’t hurt to continue the charade, could it?”

Ben knew Miss Black’s idea was the best they had, yet he was puzzled by her absolute lack of care for her own safety. Still, it was a good plan and he was running out of time.

“I suppose not. You will report to Major Andre and accept whatever proposition he has for you. You and Lieutenant Brewster here will determine a way for you to get intelligence back to me, and you only answer to _me_. If there is even the slightest potential of danger, I want you to find your way back here. Understand, Miss Black?”

Etta was already working through their plan by the time the Major finished telling her her orders. She knew how to get intelligence to Brewster, granted it would take some more planning but it would ensure timeliness. Pleased with herself and a tad exhausted from the day, Etta made her way to leave before the Major’s hand pulled her back into the tent.

“Miss Black-”

“It’s Patience Grey, Major,” Etta said. “If we ever find ourselves outside of camp, Etta will do nicely. Goodnight.”

Ben watched as Etta walked out of his tent. She was a complete and utter enigma to him, but he found himself intrigued by her every word. Her attitude was atrocious, of that he was certain, however he could tell that there was more to her than she let on.

“You alright, Tall Boy?”

Ben snapped out of his reverie, quickly nodding. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. You okay?”

His friend rolled his eyes and dabbed at his eye once more before pocketing the soiled cloth.

“That lass is a whole lot of trouble.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I am absolutely horrible with remaining true to the story line of the show and/or history, I apologize. However, I will do my best not to mess with it as far as I am able. Can we also just appreciate the fact that Etta is a female version of Caleb? The next chapter will give them more opportunities to interact, and that should be exciting. 
> 
> Anyway...thanks so much for reading! I appreciate feedback and comments, if you feel so led :)


	4. Chapter 4

_The cold tip of Officer Locke’s musket rested on Etta’s temple. The man in question had his other arm wrapped tightly around her waist. Etta hadn’t meant to make the Officer mad, but she couldn’t watch as he teased Elizabeth or insulted Nehemiah for not enlisting in His Majesty’s Army. He barely had any right to stay with the Blacks, let alone eat at their table or demand anything of their servants._

_The officer brushed a lock of Etta’s hair behind her ear before bringing his lips close to her. She could feel his hot breath on her neck and refrained from vomiting at the stench of ale coming from him._

_“You are a worthless wench,” Locke murmured, wrapping one of Etta’s long brown curls around his pointer finger. He watched as it bounced back against her neck and let out a dark chuckle. Before Etta could respond, the officer shifted his position to cover her mouth with his hand. Taking the other hand that had firmly grasped the musket, the officer brushed his fingertips across Etta’s cheek._

_“Worthless, but lovely.”_

_Etta could feel the rope tying her hands together loosen as the officer shifted his weight. When it fell off her wrists, Etta balled her hands into fists and wammed them into the officer, relishing in the groan of pain that left his lips. Happy with her success, Etta didn’t notice the officer’s hands reaching for her-_

“Etta!”

A set of hands grabbed at Etta’s wrists, pulling her out of her dream. She opened one eye and panic kicked in.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Etta screamed, kicking and punching at the man holding her down. He let go of her wrists, and Etta took the opportunity to strike her attacker. All she could see was the murderous face of Officer Locke. The image caused rage to swell within her, but the hopelessness of the situation caused Etta to choke on her own tears as she aimlessly tried to attack the officer back.

“Calm down, ya beastie. It’s Lieutenant Brewster. Good Lord, stop hitting me!!!”

Lieutenant Brewster’s silhouette appeared in front of Etta’s vision, and she let her arms fall to her sides, inwardly dying of mortification. It was only a dream. Officer Locke was dead, and he couldn’t hurt her or anyone she loved anymore. Etta tried to regulate her breathing and observed as the Lieutenant took off his cape and wrapped it around her shoulders. Despite Etta’s own uniform and insatiable pride, she shook in the early December air and the Lieutenant’s cape provided her extra warmth.

“What the hell were ya dreaming about?” the Lieutenant asked as Etta had calmed down, pushing their wagon further into the night-covered forest. It had only been a few hours since they departed camp and both wanted to murder one another. That is, until Etta fell asleep on the Lieutenant’s shoulder and the Lieutenant had to admit that this Miss Black looked quite pretty when her mouth was closed.

“None of your business, Lieutenant.”

The Lieutenant turned his attention back to their horses, raising the whip to urge them to move faster. He wished she had stayed asleep because her attitude would not serve her well on the remainder of the journey. Deciding to give her grace, however challenging that was, Caleb brushed off her tone and ambled on.

“Call me Caleb,” the Lieutenant said after awhile. Etta glanced his way, studying him in the moonlight. The longer she stared at the gash above his eye, the more she felt remorse settle deep within her gut.

“Officer Locke stayed with my family in October. At dinner one evening, he began harassing our servants. I am close to two of them, who are more like siblings to me. I chastised him in front of my family and after dinner, he…” The memory of that night came crashing down on Etta like waves on a shore. Caleb waited patiently for her to continue, shooting concerned looks in her direction when she didn’t.

“He didn’t, uh…”

Etta felt her cheeks grow hot at Caleb’s insinuation and mentally thanked the Lord that he couldn’t see her red face in the darkness.

“No, but he came close.”

Again, the two fell back into silence. Etta allowed the cadence of the horses’ hooves crushing snow beneath them and the echo of wild creatures in the distance lure her back to sleep, this time without Caleb’s shoulder as a head rest.

-

Ben’s desk was littered with unanswered correspondence. Pages upon pages of letters containing intelligence sat unread and uncared for, and Ben couldn’t help but curse Washington, whose distrust of Abraham’s intelligence had led the Major to sending a woman into New York. Not that Miss Black couldn’t fulfill their mission as she had proven herself very able, but he couldn’t fully understand her willingness. Most women he knew would faint at the mere sound of a gunshot, let alone be the source of it.

The Major dipped his quill into ink and began to respond to Abe, thanking him for his information and adding in little tidbits about camp life and war to further the facade of two childhood friends’ correspondence. When he had dotted each “i” and dried the wet ink with sand, Ben got up and made his way to Washington’s tent.

The General’s tent looked exactly the same as it did when Ben escorted Miss Black to her meeting two days prior, save the absence of Plato’s Republic on the dining table. Ben couldn’t help but get lost in the memory of Miss Black reciting one of his favorite passages.

“Major?”

Ben was brought back to reality by a concerned General Washington. He quickly composed himself and offered a few pieces of correspondence for the General to read.

“Have you decided how we might utilize our Miss Grey, Major?” Washington asked as Billy Lee tied his cravat. Ben nodded.

“Yes, sir. She is on the way to York City as we speak. We decided that she would pose as a socialite, attend Major Andre’s ball, and return shortly after. We hope she will retrieve valuable information while in the company of British officers.”

The Major did not reveal that Miss Black would be playing the part of Officer Henry Locke, or that she would remain in the city indefinitely. No, he felt quite certain that his superior would not appreciate the plan or the potential harm it could cause to...Miss Grey.

“Very well. If intelligence does not come within a fortnight, send Lieutenant Brewster to retrieve Miss Grey. I will not have her endangered, no matter her past.”

Ben wanted to point out that Etta was quite capable of handling herself, but he remained silent, nodding in compliance before leaving Washington’s tent. The only danger he feared Etta facing was if she antagonized Caleb. He wasn’t sure his friend would be as gracious to her as he had been.

-

Etta had missed York City. It had been nearly two years since she had visited family in the city, but it still smelled of fish, causing her to begrudgingly plug her nose as Caleb rowed them into York Harbour.

“If yew die, I swear…” the whaler began, his eyes darting between Etta and the Regulars posted on a dock only a few feet from them.

“I’m not going to die,” Etta spat, throwing Caleb’s coat at him as she disembarked from the carriage that he had parked behind a tavern. “ _They_ will.”

“That’s my girl,” Caleb said with a smirk. Etta glared at him before grabbing her things and making her way onto the main road that would take her to Major Andre.

Major Andre’s residence in York City was grand, Etta would give him that. She had never met the man, but knew immediately upon entering the large manor that he was one for art. It reminded her of Black Manor, which caused a bitter taste to sit in Etta’s mouth as she stepped into the foyer decorated with busts and the faint smell of paint.

The dark-skinned woman who greeted Etta gave her a brief smile and curtsey before offering to take her coat. Etta thanked her and followed her farther into the house to a room, where the woman gestured for her to enter.

“He’ll be awaiting you, sir,” she said with another smile. Etta lifted her hat slightly in thanks, careful to not let her curls come tumbling out of it. The woman left Etta to stare at the closed door in front of her. If she made it through this meeting, it could only be Providence. The Head of British Intelligence couldn’t be thick enough to buy her disguise as the generals she had had the pleasure of blackmailing. Repositioning her hat and double and triple checking her uniform, Etta placed her hand around the golden doorknob and opened it, wincing as the door creaked.

Major Andre was sitting at his desk, a pile of papers and correspondence surrounding him. Etta silently observed as his head was bent in concentration while writing on a piece of parchment. When she reached the front of his desk, Andre looked up and smiled. Etta inhaled, instantly entranced by his handsomeness.

“Officer Henry Locke, I make your acquaintance at last,” the man drawled, offering a hand to Etta. She obliged, and Andre kept it in his own for a second too long. Nervousness rose in her chest until she realized that the Major simply desired a response.

“Oh yes, thank you for your invitation, sir,” Etta murmured. “But might I ask why you requested that I come?”

Major Andre nodded in understanding as he strolled toward a cabinet at the other end of the room. Grabbing a decanter and two glasses, the Major gestured for Etta to sit in one of the chairs by the fireplace. He handed her a glass of what Etta determined was sherry, and took a seat himself.

“Your skill on the battlefield has been a popular topic of conversation amongst the Generals as of late,” the Major explained. Etta examined the man before her. Despite the hatred burning through her veins, she couldn’t help but relax under the kind eyes of the Major.

“I suppose I had to meet the legend myself.”

Etta sipped at her sherry. “I’m hardly a legend, Major, but I thank you nevertheless.”

The Major observed Etta, his eyes scanning her own. She gulped.

“I’ve heard of your humility as well. However, we are not here to discuss your shining achievements, as they were. I have a proposition for you, Mr. Locke.”

Etta set down her glass and followed the Major to his desk, where he lifted the parchment he had written on earlier and waved it in the air in attempt to dry the still-wet ink. Major Andre handed it to her, and Etta took her time to read over it twice before responding, a trick her father taught her when she was a young girl. " _Always read a letter three times, Henrietta_ ," he had said as she sat in his lap. " _You don't want to miss that which is unwritten._ "

The words written in black startled Etta, although she made no show of it on her face lest the Major question why. Etta read the letter thrice for good measure.

“You want me to join the Rebels, sir?” Etta asked, willing her rapidly racing heart to slow. She knew it. The damn Brit wouldn’t be satisfied unless she played his bloody game. Very well then, Etta thought. She wouldn’t just play, but win. “Surely I can do more than just fight.”

Major Andre looked up from his pile of papers and gave Etta a quizzical glance that slowly transformed into a grin.

“Oh quite, Officer Locke. In fact, I’d like you to spy.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Long time, no post. I have been diligently writing Sirens, and I apologize for not posting chapter four. If you haven't yet, definitely check out Sirens! 
> 
> Anywayyy, I hope you enjoy this chapter and the lovely cameos of Andre :)


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